


Remedy

by sweetautumnwine



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Fluff, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 07:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17199518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetautumnwine/pseuds/sweetautumnwine
Summary: Nyanko-sensei's suffering from an unknown ailment. Natsume learns of a cure and vows to procure it.





	Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Natsume Yuujinchou Secret Santa 2018 event on Tumblr for user Indieapolis!

“I _told_ you not to stay out in the rain so long, sensei.” Natsume had lectured the yokai several times already, but his points never seemed to stick. “No matter how tasty you thought that ramen would be, it wasn’t worth risking your health.”

 

The cat-shaped creature moaned as he rolled onto his side, eyes shut tight. “Don’t talk so loud, Natsume,” he mumbled. “You’ll make my head explode.”

 

In spite of his stern tone, Natsume knelt by his side and dabbed a cold rag against his fur. Treating a yokai for fever wasn’t a skill he’d perfected, but he reasoned the procedures would be somewhat similar. At the very least, Nyanko-sensei hadn’t complained yet.

 

The yokai often took trips by himself, and given his apparent status as a powerful being, Natsume usually didn’t worry too much about his safety. But something was different this time. When Nyanko-sensei had returned, his eyes appeared hazy, and he said nothing about the fabled ramen in the next town over. Natsume assumed the worst and continued to chide him for being reckless; if only the yokai had just waited for the weekend, Natsume would have accompanied him, and they wouldn’t be in this mess.

 

Still, Natsume couldn’t help but be sympathetic. The creature looked so tired and small in spite of his sour attitude.

 

“Try to get some rest,” Natsume said as he rose. “I’ll bring you something warm to eat.”

 

“Shrimp?” A flicker of brightness flashed in his eyes, but Natsume reasoned it was likely the fever’s effect rather than his health miraculously returning at the mere thought of a treat.

 

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said, smiling kindly as he reached for the door. “Maybe Touko-san’s finally taken pity on you. You might get spoiled.”

 

Waving his paws sluggishly in the air, Nyanko-sensei sighed. “That woman is a saint,” he said. “You’d better be grateful for her, Natsume.”

 

“I know,” he said. “I am.”

 

* * *

 

“How is Nyankichi-kun?” Touko clasped her hands by her mouth, her brows pinched with worry. “It’s been several days now…”

 

“He’s getting better,” Natsume lied. “A few more days of rest, and he’ll be begging for second helpings again.”

 

She didn’t seem convinced, humming in contemplation. “Maybe we should take him to a vet after all,” she said. “There’s only so much we can do out here.”

 

“No, we shouldn’t,” Natsume said, a bit too quickly. The thought of bringing Nyanko-sensei to an ordinary veterinarian nearly made him nauseous; if the yokai were really ill, he might not be able to control his form—or his powers. “I mean… I’ve been reading a lot about common feline conditions, and it looks like it’s just a case of… food poisoning.”

 

At this, Touko covered her mouth with both hands, a look of horror washing over her features. “Oh, dear. You don’t think it was something _I_ made for him, do you?”

 

Mirroring her shock, Natsume dismissively waved his hands. “No, of course not! Your cooking is perfect, Touko-san,” he said, earning a relieved sigh. “You know how troublesome Nyanko-sensei can be. He probably just got into some trash and ate something he shouldn’t have. He isn’t the brightest.”

 

She laughed. “We shouldn’t tease him when he’s feeling unwell, but you’re right. He’s a silly little thing. I’ll leave his recovery to you, but if he gets any worse, it’s no trouble to get him to a professional. We all want him to be well again!”

 

Natsume nodded, resisting the impulse to lurch forward and envelop her in a hug. If he let slip his self control, he’d weep into her shoulder in response to her kindness. The woman truly was a gift. “Of course. Thank you, Touko-san. That means a lot.”

 

She set an additional helping of stew on his tray and winked. “Can’t have you going hungry while we spoil the kitty, now can we? Let me know if you need anything, Takashi.”

 

With a gentle smile, he nodded before slipping through the open door and carefully navigating the stairs. When he reached his room and nudged open the door, Natsume saw that Nyanko-sensei had flopped onto his back. A steady snore accompanied each exhale, and as he (presumably) dreamt, his tail and back feet occasionally twitched.

 

Folding his legs beneath himself, Natsume sat on the floor beside the yokai, his back against his desk. Before reaching for his stew, he extended a hand to scratch the creature’s soft head, gently rubbing the fur between his ears. Even as the yokai slept, Natsume imagined the pleasant sound he heard reflected his contentment.

 

He hoped Nyanko-sensei would get better. The thought of any other outcome made him sick.

 

* * *

 

Natsume couldn’t sleep. Each time he closed his eyes for too long, he found himself straining to hear the sound of Nyanko-sensei’s breathing, and when he convinced himself of silence, he woke, heart racing, only to find the yokai slumbering soundly, paws twitching as though he were hunting in a dream.

 

Eventually, Natsume surrendered, sitting up with his back against the wall and flicking on a small lamp so he could read. Kitamoto had loaned him a book to read over their short break, having praised it with a glowing review and apologized for the dog-eared pages. Touched by the gesture, Natsume had vowed to read it in its entirety and provide his own commentary when they reunited.

 

In the dim light, reading was not easy. Natsume struggled to parse the pages against the poor conditions and his own exhaustion without fully absorbing what he read. He was only able to turn a few pages before the window was flung open and a burst of cool air filled the room. Startled, Natsume dropped the book on its spine, and he dove in front of Nyanko-sensei, bracing his body against the wind to protect him.

 

“Ooh, he’s acting as a bodyguard now,” a familiar voice said. “You’ve trained him well, Madara.”

 

From beneath Natsume’s form, Nyanko-sensei scoffed. “It’s too late for your sarcasm, Hinoe.”

 

Once Natsume realized that the threat was minimal, he settled back on his heels, exhaling with relief and turning to face the yokai.

 

Hinoe perched on the windowsill, exhaling a ring of smoke after taking a slow draw from her pipe. She flashed him a wry smile before raising her chin and addressing Nyanko-sensei once more. “You seem out of sorts,” she said, looking him over and wrinkling her nose. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

 

Bristling, Nyanko-sensei rose on wobbling legs and shifted to face her. “I’ll have you know, I’m well on the path to recovery. A few more days of rest, and I’ll be back to my powerful self. Right, Natsume?”

 

To Natsume’s surprise, Hinoe shook her head as though disappointed, and her sharp gaze could pierce the hardest heart. “ _Why_ are you lying to the boy, Madara? Surely you trust him by now.”

 

“Not lying.” Nyanko-sensei didn’t move or open his eyes to address her, and each breath seemed to shudder through his body. “Nosy.”

 

Unwilling to believe his mentor, Natsume approached the other yokai. “What are you talking about?”

 

Hinoe pursed her lips and tapped out ash into the wind. “What he’s got is no ordinary sickness,” she said. “Our mighty Madara’s been cursed.”

 

“Have not!” After Nyanko-sensei blurted his objection, he fell into a fitful cough, and Hinoe raised an eyebrow accusingly.

 

“Have _so_ ,” she insisted, narrowing her eyes. “You can’t fool me, Madara. You’re getting worse. I’m almost embarrassed for you.”

 

While ordinarily, Natsume _might_ have been amused by their banter, he only felt a creeping dread. “How serious is it?”

 

Hinoe sighed. “Hard to say. He looks pathetic—”

 

“I’m right here!”

 

“—and even Madara isn’t immune to a quality curse,” she finished, glaring at him. “Given its effect so far, I’d say this one could be a problem. He’s getting old, and it seems powerful. He might need some help.”

 

Natsume rose, eyes earnest. “Understood. What can I do?”

 

It was hard to tell when Hinoe was sincere and when she was mischievous, for the twinkle in her eye could convey either. She had existed longer than he could fathom, and while he didn’t know her exact age, he knew better than to ask; her prowess and knowledge seemed insurmountable regardless of her experience.

 

Still, Natsume was willing to do anything to help others, and she knew this well. “There’s an old remedy brewed from herbs found on the mountains in the west. The ingredients are difficult to find, but once concocted, the stew will cure any ailment, mundane or otherwise. That should do the trick.”

 

Sparing a glance at Nyanko-sensei, Natsume frowned before nodding solemnly. “I’ll go. But I can’t just leave him here.”

 

From behind her back, Hinoe brandished a long strip of fabric, shimmering as though plucked from the night sky. “I thought as much,” she said, laying it across Natsume’s open palms. “This will allow you to carry him without putting additional strain on your body. He’s hefty in this form, and you’re fragile. You humans always are.”

 

Natsume grasped the cloth and smoothed his thumbs over the surface; though it felt ordinary to the touch, there was something about the material that made him shiver. “Thank you, Hinoe,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I’ll take care of him.”

 

She hadn’t expressed anything resembling concern, but she smiled nonetheless before vanishing into the night.

 

* * *

 

“Natsume…” Cradled against his chest, Nyanko-sensei bobbed his head with each step taken, his paws resting firm just beneath Natsume’s collarbone. “Watch your step.”

 

“Quiet.” Hunched forward, Natsume tried to manage his breathing as he hiked up the steep incline. He’d already collected most of the key components, but the mountain was vast and difficult to navigate. Night was quickly approaching, and as the light of day gave way to the amber hues of dusk, he struggled to avoid exposed roots and uneven terrain. “Just bear with me, sensei.”

 

The gifted sash truly was a blessing. Through he’d carried the yokai in his arms before and knew how heavy the creature was, Natsume felt as though he were only managing his own body weight. He could only imagine how difficult the journey would be if he were forced to lug the yokai up and down the mountain. His arms would be sore for days.

 

Nyanko-sensei groaned, head lolling to the side, and Natsume slowed to a temporary stop. He knelt to retrieve a bottle of water from his bag. “I need some of this for the medicine,” he said as he unscrewed the cap, “but you can drink a bit.”

 

Gently, he held the bottle to Nyanko-sensei’s mouth and dribbled the water in. He greedily swallowed it, spilling some down his chin without seeming to mind. After Natsume had returned the bottle to his bag and resumed his trek, Nyanko-sensei sighed and opened his eyes to a squint. “You should treat me like this all the time. I feel loved.”

 

Natsume frowned, pouting. He continued in silence for several minutes, focusing on his footing, and when he reached a level area, he withdrew the map from his pocket to compare to his surroundings. As he inspected it in the dying light, he spoke without making eye contact. “You are, you know.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Loved,” Natsume said, cheeks burning. “At least by Touko-san. No one loves her cooking like you do, and she’s been devastated that you aren’t eating much. You have to get better soon or she might be heartbroken.”

 

Nyanko-sensei opened his eyes to their normal width and blinked up at Natsume. After a moment, he settled into a soft expression and nuzzled his face against Natsume. “I’ll recover just for her, then.”

 

Natsume pocketed the map and cleared his throat. “Right. The last ingredient should be over here. Before you know it, you’ll be back to your energetic, annoying self.”

 

The yokai didn’t respond, just exhaled through his nose like a whistle. Taking this as a bad sign, Natsume quickened his pace. With one hand, he clutched Nyanko-sensei close to his chest while scavenging for a breed of glimmering golden berries buried in brambles. He pricked his fingers on a few but contained his exclamations of pain; wounds like that would heal, he reasoned, and Nyanko-sensei’s condition was far more serious than a few small scratches.

 

After lying the yokai gently atop the cloth sling, Natsume started a fire with little effort, attributing his success to divine influence (or perhaps Hinoe’s good fortune) and began to combine the ingredients in a small pot he’d taken with permission from Touko-san’s kitchen.

 

Though he wasn’t sure why she allowed him to take the dish without questioning the request, he found himself more and more grateful for her leniency and generosity with each passing day. Nyanko-sensei was right: she _was_ a saint. Natsume was always thinking of ways he could thank her, even with small gestures like tidying up their shared spaces or tending to the garden in her absence. Her gratitude was disproportionate to the amount of work he did, but her smile was thanks enough.

 

When the brew began to boil, Natsume stirred the contents until they blended into a deep purple concoction. The smell was reminiscent of cinnamon and baked fruit, somewhat sweet but with a hint of spice. Hinoe had told him what to look for and warned him the process might take some time. His wrist began to ache as he rotated the wooden spoon, but he persevered. After several strenuous minutes, the mixture flashed a blinding white light, and when he was able to see again, he found that the liquid had turned bright pink and bubbled over the lip of the pot.

 

“Okay, sensei…” Natsume slipped a hand along the yokai’s neck, tilting his head up. “I hope this works…”

 

Careful not to spill a drop, Natsume brought a spoonful of the brew to Nyanko-sensei’s mouth, dribbling it in and coaxing him to swallow. He smacked his lips, and a low rumble of approval sounded from his stomach. Natsume almost laughed at the realization that, in the days since the sickness began, he’d come to miss the noise.

 

When more than half of the liquid had been consumed, Natsume endeavored to lift him into his arms and cradled him, both arms supporting his back. The slow flick of his tail was his only reaction. Without the sash, Nyanko-sensei’s full weight bore upon Natsume’s arms, and he shook with effort but held fast. Rubbing one thumb across the yokai’s furry cheek, Natsume felt night fall around him as he waited for something miraculous to happen.

 

Without warning, Nyanko-sensei sneezed so viciously he wrenched himself from Natsume’s arms and rolled onto the ground. Stunned, Natsume froze before scrambling forward, arms outstretched, to collect the creature. But Nyanko-sensei stood on his own legs without faltering, and when he looked back at Natsume with wide eyes, Natsume saw that the feverish sheen had vanished.

 

The yokai let out a celebratory cry, and in a puff of smoke, he transformed, appearing in his full form and craning back his neck to breathe in the fresh air. In the moonlight, Madara appeared magnificent, his fur shiny and clean with bright eyes that gleamed and flashed.

 

With a great rush of excitement, Natsume stood, brushing damp leaves from his knees, and felt as though a weight had fallen from his back. “Sensei!” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “It worked!”

 

His exuberance was met with a toothy grin. _It did_ , the yokai said, returning to the loamy soil and resting his head near Natsume’s feet. _Thank you, Natsume._

 

Natsume wove his hands into his fur and pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes and letting the relief wash over him. Madara allowed this; though his energy had been restored, he reasoned that additional rest, however brief, wouldn’t hurt.

 

Before long, he realized that Natsume’s breathing had slowed, and when he shifted his great head, the boy nearly slipped off. With a low, rumbling chuckle, Madara eased Natsume onto his back where he would be safe and rose, preparing for flight.

 

 _Sleep well, Natsume._ He spared a soft glance, one he would never bear while the boy was awake, before launching into the air and soaring, silhouetted by the stars, toward home.


End file.
